Everything Has Changed
by brightneeBee
Summary: Maggie Carter was not a typical SHIELD agent. To be honest, she was more of an employee, but an asset to the division. After a major event happens while she is on assignment, Maggie leaves New York for the simple task of shadowing Pepper Potts. Eight months later, Maggie is confused by feelings for Happy Hogan, and starts thinking about leaving SHIELD for good. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: ****_Maggie Carter was not a typical SHIELD agent. To be honest, she was more of an employee, but an asset to the division. After a major event happens while she is on assignment, Maggie leaves New York for the simple task of shadowing Pepper Potts. Eight months later, Maggie is confused by feelings for her friend, and starts thinking about leaving SHIELD for good. Unfortunately, SHIELD has other plans for their top psychologist and interrogator and life decides more complications are in order. Steve Rogers is found in the Arctic, Director Fury wants Maggie to befriend the man out of time as a link from Rogers' past, and Loki comes to Earth for war. Will Maggie tell Happy how she feels? Will she fall for someone else? What will life throw at her that makes her decisions that much more difficult? How will she ever manage to leave SHIELD after she befriends the Avengers? How will she help Steve move past Peggy Carter and integrate into the modern era?_**

**A/N: This will be the first part of a sequel or trilogy series. I wanted to try my hand at a Happy Hogan fanfic, mainly because I feel he is an under appreciated character in the movies, and I've been wanting Happy to get a happy ending for a while now. Of course, with the Marvel-verse and real life, a happy ending isn't going to be instantaneous. There will be drama, humor, and Tony/Maggie hijinks, bets, and maybe a touch of science. Be warned that I enjoy writing realistically when it comes to romance and relationships. Sometimes people don't end up with each other right off the bat, and I like to portray how human beings make decisions that lead them away from the better ending. So, this may be very UST-y and drawn out, but it's raw and real...so deal with it.**

**Also, I am very fond of ignoring the rules of the rating system on FFnet. You've been warned. There will be emotional moments, violent moments, graphic depictions and, eventually, detailed smut. If you don't care for it, or you're a little young to be reading something like this, then please divert your eyes and go back to the K-T archives. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters of Marvel comics or the Marvel cinematic universe. I do not mean any copyright infringement by writing or posting this fanfiction. Please, do not sue me, Big Whig copyright lawyer people.**

**Please enjoy reading, and do a fellow reader/writer a solid and review. ;)**

* * *

_Friday, 4 March 2011. Los Angeles, California._

Maggie Carter was not a typical SHIELD agent.

She was aware she was not Fury's top pick for this particular assignment, either, but she had literally gotten on her knees and begged. Yes, she was an agent, but that was a loosely defined term considering what she usually did for the division. She normally was not a field agent like Coulson, not a badass super spy like Agent Romanov, she did not kick ass in a fight like Agent Barton, and she was not even remotely as intimidating as Agent Hill. She was most definitely not a strong-willed, brazen woman like her Nana Peggy, whom she was named after. She was a decent enough agent, but she was inexplicably incapable of separating herself from her emotions, which made her the exact opposite of her cousin, Sharon, who strived to be the best emotionally-detached agent for the division. Actually, Maggie liked to think she was Nana Peggy's favorite niece, because she hadn't pursued SHIELD or the military as a career path like everyone else in the family. She had attended University, with the idea of non-government work after she graduated. SHIELD had come to her, and it had been extremely hilarious to Nana to see Director Fury's reaction when Maggie had turned him down immediately. It wasn't until he sent Coulson out to persuade her that she gave it consideration.

She had been twenty-three years old and recently graduated from Columbia with a PhD, Masters and Bachelors under her belt already. She had just started filling into her narrow build and losing the social awkwardness of skipping several grades and testing into college early. Maggie hadn't really put effort into her appearance until after working in SHIELD, so that day she'd answered Fury's knock in a vintage shirt and green sweatpants. Her hair hadn't been brushed well, simply pulled into the sloppiest ponytail the intimidating man had ever seen, and she kept pushing the typical accessory for nerds up the length of her nose. All in all, she had not been what Director Fury expected, considering she had been raised by the legendary Peggy Carter for most of her life. She still wore the black framed, rectangle glasses that were too wide for her face, to this day, just to remind Fury of his disappointment.

Of course, that had been four years ago.

"I have an itinerary for the D.C. meeting, and your lunch, Ms. Potts," said Maggie, entering the CEO's office. Putting the carry-out and itinerary folder on Pepper's desk as she continued to prattle on, "Your flight leaves in an hour, and Mr. Hogan is waiting outside with your bags. Is there anything else you need me to take care of before your departure?"

Pepper looked up from the computer screen with an apologetic look, "Yes, I just have one more thing to ask of you, Maggie. Ms. Rushman will be accompanying me to D.C., so you'll have a pretty easy week...If you could work with Happy and just keep an eye on Mr. Stark while I'm gone? He tends to cause trouble if he's left unsupervised for more than a day. And please rein Happy in with the badge-thing. People are starting to complain."

"Whatever you need, Ms. Potts," replied Maggie, her odd faint British accent more evident when she used polite colloquialisms. "I'll persuade Mr. Hogan to relax on the changes to Stark security, and I'm sure Mr. Hogan and I can keep Mr. Stark out of the gossip mags for a week. Is that all?"

"Yes, that's all for now. Thank you, Maggie," sighed Pepper, grabbing her lunch and folder as she stood from the desk. "I appreciate your dedication."

"Think nothing of it," Maggie said kindly, following Pepper out of the office. "I'm positive everything will go swimmingly."

She hadn't meant it as a joke, but Pepper laughed anyway, too familiar with the ways of Tony Stark. As they left the office, Maggie fell a step behind Pepper, and in step with Happy as he followed suit, as well. Walking side by side, Maggie chanced a glance at Happy and brushed her fingers against the back of his hand, an innocent accident since they were walking so close together to the elevator. She apologized quietly, giving him more space as they stepped behind Pepper into the lift and offering him a small smile. They were going on eight months working together, and almost six months keeping their activities outside of work a secret. Mainly to keep the gossip hags from calling it an office romance. It wasn't as though they were "together," more that they found mutual enjoyment from spending time off the clock, same as when Maggie spent rare nights out with Pepper. Friends; that was what they were.

Regarding their off-hours activities, Happy seemed very gentlemanly and Maggie was enjoying having a male friend who was not Coulson, or Barton. Happy introduced her to the wonder of American sports, and she very much liked watching baseball, and boxing and car racing. In return, she had been hooking him on British shows. He'd found _Doctor Who_ fun to watch, but he was obsessed with _Downton Abbey._ And she very much liked Happy, as a friend. He was fun to be around. He seemed to enjoy having someone who bantered and bickered with him so easily without taking offense to anything that was said. And she didn't mind the way he protected her when they watched some game or other at a bar. He always stepped between her and possible suitors, acting like a jealous boyfriend, but really giving her the opportunity to signal if she wanted the stranger to go away, or if she was fine with him staying to chat. She always sent the suitors away, preferring to listen to Happy explain the rules of whatever sport they were watching.

While Happy drove them to the Stark Industries private hangar, Maggie studied her company issued tablet, going over the move from L.A. to Stark Tower in New York with Pepper. She winced slightly at the start of a dull throbbing in her head. It started behind her forehead and rippled back until it encompassed her entire brain. It was odd, since she hadn't experienced headaches like this her entire life. They seemed to be a recent thing, but she was just assuming it was due to the stress of managing the company move from Stark Industries to Stark Tower in New York. There was also the worry of speaking to Pepper regarding Maggie's living arrangements. According to Stark, Maggie was banned from living in the Tower, which was fine by her, but Pepper was standing firm that she wanted Maggie close at hand and comfortable. As it were, Maggie refused to broach the subject while Pepper and Tony were bickering about it. She had the Brooklyn apartment, and the commute to Midtown Manhattan wasn't too horrible. Besides, Maggie was secretly hoping Pepper would choose to keep her in Los Angeles. Maggie much preferred avoiding all the baggage that came with being so close to New York Headquarters for SHIELD.

The plane was ready to go, and Colonel Rhodes was already waiting for Pepper when they arrived. Happy helped transfer Pepper's luggage to the cargo hold, and stood next to Maggie as they both bid Pepper and Colonel Rhodes a safe flight. There were always last minute worries from Pepper that were soothed immediately, while Maggie urged her boss onto the plan. When the stairs were rolled away, the door shut and sealed tight, she turned with Happy and they walked back to the car. With the propellers creating strong winds, Maggie was grateful she chose to pull her hair back in a ponytail that morning, and that she remembered her sunglasses. She was also admonishing herself for wearing a flimsy dress, instead of pants, now that she was attempting to keep the skirt of it down as she walked back to the car. She did not want him and everyone standing around a distance from the plane knowing she was wearing Star Wars (Yoda) knickers. It would be incredibly embarrassing.

Maggie could feel Happy staring at her backside while she struggled with the skirt of her dress as she got in the car. The wind caught the flimsy material as she went to sit down, sending it up past her waist before she caught it again. Her cheeks were burning red as she sat in the front seat and buckled the seatbelt in. They watched the plane take off in silence, Happy struggling to keep his face from breaking out in a grin while she kicked off her heels.

When the plane was in the sky, he shifted the car into reverse with an imitation of Yoda, "Nice panties, those you wear."

"That...is a horrible impression. And I'll...punch you in the bollocks," she threatened, blush turning a deeper red as he chuckled at his own joke, "if you say another word about my knickers."

"I just said they were nice," Happy snickered, speeding off towards the highway. "I don't know why you're embarrassed, they look good on you. They're nice panties. I'm curious to know how many others you have like that. Do you have a whole collection, or just the one pair-"

"Happy," she cut him off, fighting a laugh of her own.

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking about my panties," she snorted, unable to contain the giggles. She spoke again when they both stopped laughing, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," he said, veering off onto a ramp.

Biting her lip, she looked over at him and considered asking the question. She thought long and hard, remembering he was driving and it was an extremely personal question that he most likely wouldn't appreciate. She asked him personal questions all the time, but she had always avoided the touchy subject of Pepper. This wasn't how she usually went about this sort of thing. At SHIELD in New York, she had an office, and then she had her work space; a room with a couch and overstuffed chairs, decorated and painted in subtle, neutral tones that allowed her patients to feel at ease. Sometimes she met with the agents she was assigned to outside of headquarters, in places they felt more comfortable. She made friends with them, allowed them to feel completely relaxed and waited for them to start a dialogue. It helped bridge a connection, a sense of security where nothing they shared would be considered a weakness or admission of feeling scared or angry. No judgement, no questions; therapy was done on the patient's terms. And if they asked to keep certain things from Director Fury, she was more than happy to oblige.

There were always gaps between patients, since she let them come to her, instead of requiring weekly visits. And there were always gaps between "bad guys" Fury liked her to interrogate, since she had such an off-putting, cheerful demeanor, and she could tell if an individual was lying within 30 seconds. She had two degrees from Cambridge, a Doctorate of Psychology and a Masters degree in political sciences. (She also had a bachelors degree in computer sciences.) Though she hardly got to use the degrees in computer and political sciences; they proved to be more of an indulgence while she worked on her thesis papers and dissertations for her doctorate. Yet, all her degrees were quite useful in the field, when chaos was raining down around them. And her training in coping mechanisms to get through intensely stressful situations helped keep people at ease when the pressure was on. She did some of this, some of that, but she always returned to New York and milled about in her offices, or strolled through the levels to check on people in departments. Of course, after New Mexico she'd requested time off. Then she had begged Fury for a transfer upon her return. She had been adamant to get away from New York, because she couldn't handle the agents who had witnessed the same thing she had in the desert. She couldn't be their friend and relive Puente Antiguo with them for the sake of being a SHIELD on-staff psychologist. And to be honest, she wanted to test the waters to see if leaving SHIELD for a less stressful existence would be best.

She was starting to realize why some agents retired after five years.

Acting as a SHIELD shadow for Pepper Potts seemed like a good idea at the time, after she'd spent a couple weeks in England with her Nana. And so far, in the eight months she had worked for Pepper, no alien war-monsters had fallen out of the sky to terrorize anyone at Stark Industries. And there has been no decrease in her nightmares since Fury placed her in Los Angeles. She missed Brooklyn, she missed Nana's old apartment, which the old woman had kept out of sentimentality even after moving back to England after Maggie graduated. Maggie missed New York, to an extent, and she missed England as well, but it was starting to feel as though she wanted to start a new life. A life outside of SHIELD and the stress. A better life than what she was leading, because she didn't want to end up like her parents, or Sharon's parents. And she most definitely did not want to end up like Nana Peggy. No matter how much she loved the woman who raised her, Maggie couldn't bear the thought of spending her life pining for love lost.

"You're too quiet," said Happy, jerking her out of her thoughts. "You okay? You were gonna ask me something."

Was she? Oh, yes, the Pepper theory. No, she would let it go. Maggie didn't have the nerve to play shrink to a friend, especially one so wrapped up in the tortured soul and pining stage. If Happy was ever going to get over Pepper, he'd have to realize at some point that she was _with_ Tony. He would have to come to understand the gravity of that sentence, _She's with Tony_. And Maggie wasn't sure if he was ready yet.

Instead, she flashed a brilliant smile, relief washing through her as the throbbing in her head subsided, "Yes, of course. I was, uh, just wondering if you planned on watching the game tonight on the telly?"

She could see he was enticed. Happy loved so many different sports, there were always games on. If she was remembering correctly, the Lakers were playing some team or another that night. There was no way Happy was missing the Lakers, or the New York Knicks. Oh, she could have patted herself on the back for remembering those names.

"I thought you were taking first shift with Tony?" Happy asked, avoiding giving her an answer.

With exaggerated enthusiasm, she said, "Well, now that you mention it. I was hoping you wouldn't mind coming along? I don't think Mr. Stark would appreciate a stranger waltzing into his home, again, and you've been avoiding him for months."

"Why the sudden interest in me and Tony?" asked Happy, working himself up for some banter and bickering already. He was a few moments away from talking at lightning speed, which she enjoyed. Sometimes she wondered if she was one of very few people who could understand him when he did it. And he only did it to win an argument. He even held up a finger to start pointing out things, which she tried to stop before he began but it didn't work that way.

"Firstly - No, no, listen. _Listen_...Firstly, you've met Tony a handful of times now. You've been in the house, you've dragged him out of his lair by the ear, so of course he remembers you. Secondly - _Secondly_! What's with the questions about me avoiding him? I haven't been avoiding him, I've just been busy, you know, with work and driving you and Pepper around. I don't see why you think I'm avoiding him, far from it. Like I said, I've just been busy-"

"Of course, you've been busy, but you won't even take his calls," Maggie cut in, laughing out of exasperation, and possibly frustration. "I bring up the subject, because I was under the impression you were friends! I know you're stinging from the Pepper-choosing-him-thing, but honestly, Happy-"

"WHOA! Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed, flipping on the right-turn signal as he merged into a turning lane. The car slowed to a stop as the stop light turned red. "I'm not upset over Pepper and Tony's - I don't understand why you're bringin' that up now. I mean, she picked him. I'm happy for them, they're my friends - why wouldn't I be happy for them? I'm not avoiding Tony because of that, _obviously_ you're seeing things that aren't there-"

"I believe I am seeing things that _are_ there-"

"No, I think you're just stirring the pot-"

"I am NOT stirring a pot!" Maggie shouted over him, unable to contain a laugh at the suggestion. "I'm merely stating fact! You're in love with Pepper, anyone BUT Pepper sees that! I'm not judging you for it, Hap-"

He held up his hands and looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, "Oh, I am not in love with Pepper-"

"You're lying to yourself if you actually believe that!" She shouted, hands flailing emphatically as they both tried to argue over each other. "You are so bloody in love with her! I'm not judging you for it, she's an amazing woman, but when are you going to -"

"I think you got it backwards, Maggie. I'm not in love with her -"

"SHE'S WITH TONY!" Maggie finally yelled, throwing herself back against her seat and feeling very ashamed that she had actually stepped over the line.

Silence filled the car as the light turned green and Happy turned onto the speedway towards Stark Industries. Maggie was grateful, again, that she was wearing sunglasses, because she couldn't bear for Happy to see how upset his denial made her. It wasn't that she was being petty, or jealous of the fact that he only saw her as a friend. She saw him as a friend, so it wasn't some secret attraction she was hiding that made her push the issue. It was that he just couldn't see the obvious. She hated that this had turned into a fight, but it was about time he started realizing the truth of the matter. Even if he fumed at her for "going there."

Of course, in a minute it would be like they hadn't argued at all.

She hoped.

With a sigh, as the silence weighed down on her, Maggie stopped biting on the tip of her thumb to glance over at him. Another sigh, she added softly, "You're the Head of security at Stark Industries now, but you act like her personal bodyguard and chauffeur. You watch her when you think no one else is looking. You don't talk to your friend, because she's with him… And you refuse to acknowledge what's wrong with that sentence. Pepper is with Tony. She is with Tony, and you're punishing him for Pepper's choice, because you can't bring yourself to blame her. Everyone sees it except you, so let me ask this...When are you going to realize that she has only ever noticed you as a friend, Happy?"

He was quiet for a really long time as the city of Los Angeles blurred past them. Happy was speeding, but she had spent time in Coulson's car as he sped down desert roads. So the fact that Happy floored it a lot of the time didn't even faze her. She wasn't going to ask him to slow down, mainly because she didn't want to contribute anything more to the conversation. He was upset, and stuck in a car with her for the next ten minutes, so she would give him the space of silence until he was ready to talk. Maggie said nothing when he turned on the radio. She didn't argue over the station like she usually did, which Happy was used to. She even pressed "ignore" as her cousin Sharon called persistently. She just remained silent to give Happy the delusion of space while he mulled over everything she had said. It was odd for them to not immediately move on from an argument.

When he slowed and parked in the employee parking garage of Stark Industries, they both sat in their respective seats and stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. Maggie watched office workers enter and exit, passing by in front of the car as it sat and idled. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. She could see his fingers clench and unclench on the shifter between them. After another minute, Maggie reached up and caught his fingers with a gentle squeeze. She looked straight ahead at the people walking in front of the car, while Happy's hand tensed under hers and then his fingers relaxed, flexing in her grip. She ran her hand up and down his arm until he caught her fingers and gave them a squeeze in return, before releasing the grip and unlocking the doors. They got out of the car and walked together to the main building in silence until Maggie's phone started ringing, again. Happy fidgeted with the keys, slowing down despite himself, while Maggie juggled the tablet and opening her small purse to dig out the cellphone.

She answered with an exasperated tone, "Yes, my darling cousin?"

Happy was watching her as she listened to her cousin on the phone, brows furrowed in confusion. She could feel his eyes following the quick procession of foot taps the more irritated she became. And he was listening carefully to how many times she took a sharp breath and rolled her eyes in the thirty seconds it took Sharon to tell her why she'd been calling persistently for the last hour. And then he flinched when she stomped her heeled foot in a huff.

"Well, you ran over her favorite cat the last time you stopped in for a visit. I got her that cat after she moved back to England," Maggie said, becoming increasingly annoyed. "No, I'm not telling Nana to put the gun down! If she doesn't want you there, then let her be...Yes, I was aware she has firearms...I'm the one who let her keep them! She's old, Sharon, not decrepit! She has a right to protect herself. Yes, she's of sound mind...Mrs. Chatwell took her for a neurological work-up two weeks - Yes, Sharon, she is completely lucid! Why are you even there?!"

Maggie sighed angrily, glancing at Happy before she cut her cousin off again, "Bloody hell, Sharon! I am not putting Nana in a home! No, I am most certainly not signing over the flat in Brooklyn to you! She's owned that flat since World War II, and she gave it to me when I started at - Oh, that is such bollocks, Sharon! Just let Nana be! Mrs. Chatwell takes _amazing_ care of her! Don't you dare pick the lock! Sharon? Sharon!"

The line clicked and then a dial tone blared into her ear. Maggie pushed the sunglasses up to the top of her head, juggling things until she could pull her glasses from where she'd hooked them on her neckline. Sliding the wide, black, rectangle frames onto her nose, she adjusted them for a moment until they were comfortable and sighed aggravatedly over her conversation with Sharon. It never failed that every time Sharon visited Great Aunt Peggy a gun was pulled on someone. And now her cousin wanted to put their only living relative in a geriatric home? Ugh, the bloody nerve. As if Maggie would do such a thing to the woman who raised her. Nana Peggy still had her sharp mind, no matter what Sharon said. The doctors couldn't believe a woman over 90 years old was so aware. No, Maggie was not doing anything that Sharon suggested, purely on principle.

"Wanna talk about it?" asked Happy.

"Nope..."

Maggie started walking towards the main building again. Happy followed suit, tapping the badge on his chest to remind passersby to wear them. Maggie always made sure to wear her badge around her neck, which a few people had taken to doing as well. It wasn't what Happy had in mind, wanting the badges clipped secure against the right side of people's attire. Unfortunately, Maggie usually had arms laden with boxes or documents, tablets and propositions, sometimes all four, and it was simply easier to maneuver a badge hanging from her neck. If it dangled in front of security points long enough, she was granted access, instead of trying to juggled everything to unclip the badge. Happy rode everyone but her about the badges, which she appreciated. Though, he might be afraid to push the subject with her. She could be frightening when it came to how she conducted business as Pepper Potts' assistant.

As they reached the doors, Maggie looked at herself in the reflection of Happy's sunglasses and smoothed a few stray hairs that pulled free of her ponytail at the airport.

"Watching the game at the pub tonight?" asked Maggie, testing the waters.

He nodded, taking off the sunglasses and tucking them inside his suit jacket.

She nervously pushed a bit more, "Call you later?"

"No," he said after a beat, holding the door open for her. "No, I think I need some time."

Why did it feel like her soul was being crushed?

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Hogan," she replied cheerful and chipper, sliding back into her attitude of professionalism as they entered the office and eyes followed them. "Thank you for the ride back."

It was his turn to slide into the mask of professionalism, "My pleasure. Have a great day, Ms. Carter."

She nodded and they went their separate ways.

Maggie waited for the elevator to reach the lobby, watching Happy's back retreat to the Security office. She bit her lower lip and fidgeted her hands, and there was a faint longing that twinged inside her chest as she whispered, "You too, Mr. Hogan."

The elevator door dinged and slid open.

* * *

The Lakers were playing on the flat screen above the bar, and winning, but all Happy could think about was the first time he saw Maggie Carter.

The sky had been overcast and gloomy all morning when she emerged from the parking garage. He was outside for his lunchtime smoke and there she was, an enigma with rectangle glasses too large and too wide for her face. She walked carefully around puddles in heels, arms laden with stacks of bound files. She was breathtaking to him, despite the glasses, which he had never considered an attractive quality in a woman until that afternoon. Actually, the glasses seemed to add to her allure. Her long hair had been pulled back in a sleek ponytail. He remembered her hair had been a deep, rich brown, just as it was now, and her eyes the color of forest moss; an earthy green with hints of light, warm brown. She wore a short sleeved, beige blouse tucked into a dark flowing skirt with a strange pattern imprinted across the material, and her smile had brightened his day as she passed by. Literally, the clouds parted and the sun shone down on the world when her eyes focused on him for that split second, her lips spreading out in the most stunning smile he'd ever seen. Just that brief moment when their eyes connected was enough to make Happy stop thinking about Pepper, for a few moments.

Then he'd seen the nameless woman following Pepper around the next week, at ease with the routine as if she had been born to it. She was always so put together; simple hairstyle, simple makeup, and cheerful dresses, skirts and blouses. Sometimes she wore heels, sometimes she wore flats, and yet she always looked so professional, despite the cheerful colors and school teacher sweaters. She was a breath of life after months of watching Pepper from afar, this sweet, warm, kind woman whose name he didn't even know. He looked forward to passing her in the office, because it seemed like she always had a special smile for every person she saw. He didn't know if his eyes were playing tricks on him, or if she really was that chipper, but when she felt as though no one was watching, her smile would fade and she would look sad. As if there were some great burden on her shoulders that she didn't want anyone else to see, but he did. It was almost as if she were lonely and worried and struggling, but the sadness always faded the second she felt someone looking. It was creepy, he knew, to watch her so much, but he couldn't help himself. She was alluring, different from Pepper in every single way and he wanted to know more.

Then he'd finally caved in and accessed her employee file.

M. Margaret "Maggie" Carter. Born in London, England, and raised in Brooklyn, New York. Attended Columbia University, had a Masters in electrical engineering and computer sciences, and a Bachelor degree in political science. Maggie's employment history prior to Stark Industries was fuzzy right now, but he remembered asking Pepper about it and blushing when she narrowed her eyes in amusement. He remembered Pepper had made a comment about how she never thought Happy would break company policy and look at a personnel file in a non-work related manner.

"She must be very special," Pepper had said with a sly look. He'd left it at that, making a note to never ask Pepper about Maggie, ever again. It was bad enough she grinned every time he offered to drive her places when he knew Maggie would be with her. He didn't know why he had taken a liking to the mysterious Ms. Carter, only that she was a break in the endless existence of failed pick up lines and bad first dates. It was her presence that he craved, that made Happy finally ask her out, which hadn't turned out well. He had been so nervous, and she had fumbled the papers in her arms before telling him she would love to have a friendly drink that night. It hadn't even been 24 hours and he had already been sequestered in the "friend zone," apparently. And to top it off, she apparently didn't drink. She had sipped a water all night, asking him questions about the Yankees and what the rules of baseball were, which he found fascinating since she had been raised in Brooklyn.

"Want me to top you off, sir?" asked the woman tending bar. "You look like you could use another glass."

When he nodded solemnly, the bartender poured more whiskey into his glass and left him to his moping. He glanced up at the scores on the tv, but he couldn't even bring himself to be outraged at how poorly the Lakers were doing this game. His thoughts flitted from Maggie to Pepper to Tony, and then to Pepper again, which always lead back to Maggie. It was always Maggie, these days. He couldn't figure out why she adamantly believed that he was in love with Pepper. Yes, he had loved Pepper for a long time, but he had started moving on when she chose Tony. He'd gone on dates, even had a couple one-night stands. And then Maggie had waltzed into Stark Industries on a gloomy day, and everything had changed. Spending time with her outside of work, becoming friends with this strange woman who never knew an enemy, had given his life purpose and brightened his existence every day. How could Maggie not see it? How could she not notice?

The hours slipped by as Happy drank three quarters of a bottle of whiskey, relishing the emotional numbness creeping through his veins as he paced himself. He couldn't ignore the fight they had early that day - well, yesterday, as he saw the clock on the wall - but he could drink away the ability to be angered or sad by it. He replayed the day over in his mind, lingering on brief moments and picking through conversations until he was drunk enough to forget what Maggie and he had been arguing about. All he remembered was the way her fingers had accidentally brushed against the back of his hand as they walked side by side. He could still feel the warmth spreading through him from that minute touch, the softness of her fingertips and the small smile she offered after her apology. He could see the blush that darkened her cheeks after she got in the car at the airport terminal, embarrassed about her Yoda panties. He even thought about the look in her eyes when he told her that he needed some space. There had been hurt there in those earthy green eyes, and for a moment, he took a bit of satisfaction in knowing that she was experiencing what he did every time she put up a wall on a personal subject.

Maggie never talked about her life, or her future. She always became quiet for a little while, before the smile came back and she changed the topic. She was cheerful and friendly, completely adorable in her own quirky way, but there were moments when the walls crumbled and he got a glimpse of something underneath. Happy knew something was going on in her life, with her, that she didn't want to talk about, but she didn't talk about anything. She didn't talk about family or friends, or tell stories about previous jobs or tales of college. She didn't talk about anything relevant to herself, actually. In fact, she asked questions and listened to him tell stories of his own life when the topics turned personal. They had spent hours some nights talking about nothing, he realized. Television shows and sports, his family and friends, and even shenanigans Tony and he had gotten into before Pepper became Tony's world.

Happy knew nothing about Maggie, and it bothered him.

"Sir, your phone is ringing," said the bartender as she wiped down the counter.

He looked over and saw the screen lit up, the sound of the ringtone barely registering as he picked up the smartphone. Before he answered, he nodded to her and said a sluggish, "Thanks." She gave him a sad smile and poured a bit more whiskey into his glass before leaving him to some privacy, to which he was grateful.

"Hogan," he answered, sobering just a tiny bit when he heard the name of the person who had called. "Phil?"

"Yes, Mr. Hogan," said Phil, his dry tone as sarcastic via cellphone as it was in person. "I'm calling about Maggie Carter. I believe you two are close?"

"Yeah, she's a...friend," said Happy, downing the last of his drink and dropping a few bills down on the counter for the bartender before he stepped outside. When he was near an alley by the bar, he mumbled into the phone to keep passersby from overhearing, "Why the hell is Shield calling about a Stark employee?"

"Listen carefully, Mr. Hogan, because I don't enjoy repeating myself," said Phil, a beeping sound vaguely audible in the background. "You're the closest person Maggie has to a friend. She trusts you, which is why you cannot let her know I'm telling you this. You know nothing, or I will personally make you disappear. Understood?"

Happy nodded as he replied, "Understood."

Listening to Coulson explain as much about Maggie as Happy could feasibly handle in his inebriated state was a testament to how desperate he was to know even the minute detail about the woman. Yes, as Coulson talked about New Mexico (in the most vague description in the history of the universe) and why she had moved to Los Angeles, Happy became slightly green around the gills. It wasn't easy hearing that sweet, loved-by-all Maggie Carter was a Shield agent shadowing Pepper. Or that she was actually a Doctor of psychology for Shield, as well as a beloved computer-science specialist on assignments. It made his chest tighten listening to the details of how she refused any treatment whatsoever for the post-traumatic stress she suffered from whatever the hell happened in New Mexico. His head was throbbing by the time Coulson wrapped up the briefing on Maggie and her history, and how Coulson wanted Happy to drag her to an appointment the next day. Coulson even gave Happy summaries of what Maggie was to be told when the subject of her missed therapy sessions were broached. By the time Coulson hung up his phone, Happy's head was spinning with information he didn't want to remember the next day.

So, he marched back into the bar and called Maggie to pick him up while he finished off the rest of the bottle of whiskey.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

_Saturday, 5 March 2011. Los Angeles, California._

Maggie was flipping pancakes at the stove when Happy stumbled into the kitchen. He looked as though he hadn't slept enough, but he didn't look green around the gills, so she assumed he hadn't drank too much before she picked him up. She had to stifle a snort when he kept colliding with walls and tripping over the stools lined up along the opposite side of the counter. She watched him stop as he entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and squinting as he looked around. He settled on the coffee machine first, then his gaze moved to the aluminum serving pans stacked on the small kitchen table, then to the stove. For a moment, Maggie just went about lifting the pancakes off the griddle and onto a plate next to the stove. She turned off the griddle and took the plate with the stack of fluffy deliciousness to the kitchen table.

She wasn't even self-conscious about the fact that she was wearing a shirt that reached down to her thighs, no bra, and Star Trek undies. If she were to bend over, she was certain that he would get a nice view of Spock covering her arse. Although, he was hungover, and too blinded by the lights in the living room to notice her in such a state of undress. Besides, it was seven minutes past six in the morning. She hadn't expected him to be awake so soon, since she had picked him up from the bar at one 'o'clock in the morning. She had thought to wake him up by wafting the incredible scent of a steaming cup of Columbia brew under his nose and two Aleves to help with the headache. She'd never had a person, friend or other, stay the night in any place she had lived. Even as a child, she had never experienced slumber parties, or whatever they were called. Sometimes Sharon and one of her parents would stay at Nana Peggy's for a visit, but Maggie couldn't count that as a sleepover since she and her cousin had never really gotten along.

So, to be honest, Maggie wasn't exactly aware of what to do other than making breakfast. She hadn't known what to do when she got Happy to her flat, either. Did she give him the sofa, or the bed? Did she let him strip his clothes off and sit in the shower like he had tried to do the second they walk through the door? Did she put a bucket next to the bed if he got sick? In the end, she had helped him take off his shirts, shoes and trousers, and helped him into her bed. She'd placed a bucket next to the bed, in case he was too drunk to make it to the loo. And now she was making him breakfast to soak up any remaining alcohol still in his stomach.

Happy was blinking rapidly and looking around again. Coffee machine, stacks of food on kitchen table, her bare legs. Coffee machine, her bare legs, coffee machine, food on kitchen table.

Then his gaze settled on her.

"Are you wearing pants?" he asked, pointing at her legs.

"Nope," replied Maggie, popping the "p" sound at the end of the word. Coyly, almost teasingly, she glanced over her shoulder at him again, "Make yourself at home. I usually eat on the sofa, but you're more than welcome to eat at the counter. I believe you acquainted yourself with the stools."

He stammered a bit, a redness creeping up his neck as she moved about the kitchen. She almost felt bad about teasing him like that, but it seemed like a splendid idea in her head. She had to fight not to shake her head in disbelief. Though, it made Happy stammer and stutter and blush, before a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. It was a good sign. She was happy he wasn't holding a grudge anymore over the Pepper-argument the day before. It seemed like a good way to test the waters regarding where they stood, now that it seemed to have blown over. She didn't like not being able to talk to Happy. She didn't like the feeling of a friend being upset with her.

She had already placed a stack of three pancakes on a plate, spreading some butter on them before grabbing the syrup. He groaned, running a tired hand through his short curls and sliding up on a stool to watch her in the kitchen. She remembered how he liked his pancakes, with bacon crumbled over the top of the syrup and a banana to the side, from the last time they'd had breakfast with Pepper. She wanted him to feel as at home as possible, since she was nervous and grasping at straws on how to be a proper hostess. Nana Peggy had only entertained friends from the War when Maggie was growing up, and she had watched her great aunt sip tea while chatting. Everyone had always just helped themselves, as if Nana Peggy's home was theirs as well. And Maggie hadn't really had friends as a child, or at Columbia, so she really didn't know the social norms regarding house guests other than what she may, or may not have, read in a book.

Once or twice for curiosity sake.

She placed a steaming cup of coffee and two Aleves in front of him before she slid his plate of food over the counter. She handed him a fork and knife, then a napkin, before returning to the kitchen table and it's stacks of aluminum serving trays. They were small, but with four of them she felt it would be sufficient to feed three people. She also had her great grandmother's trifle recipe sitting in the icebox. It was her final attempt to gain access into Tony Stark's house, since last night had not gone so well. Not even an irate Pepper calling Stark had gotten Maggie past the gate.

The kettle on the stove finally started whistling, which made Happy cringe. Maggie took it off the burner quickly, pouring the steaming water into a mug. She dropped in a bag of Twinings earl grey, relishing in the aroma of bergamot that exploded into her nostrils through the steam. Using the string attached to the bag, Maggie paced in the kitchen as she held the mug and steeped the tea until it was the perfect shade. She tossed the bag into the trash, trying to go about her morning routine as if she didn't have a man eating at the counter watching her every movement. He watched as she added a dash of milk and three spoons of sugar to her tea, watched her blow softly at the steam before setting it down, even watched her as she added the finishing touches to the serving trays and snapping plastic covers onto them before sliding the stack into the fridge. He watched her with a curiously dark and guarded expression, as if he were contemplating something and finding it incredibly difficult to actually say it. That was the problem with psychologists, they always had difficulties deciphering things in their own lives.

Then he returned to eating with fervor when he noticed she had caught him staring.

It was sort of odd, having another person in her flat. Just having the presence of another person was unsettling, but also incredibly thrilling. Even though she was stumbling through the whole "having a person in her home" thing. She thought she was doing pretty well, so far. It wasn't as if she planned on bringing Happy to her flat. If he hadn't called her last night, and he hadn't been just a block away at some sports bar, she would have probably taken him to his place and left after he was tucked in. Though, he _had_ been just a block away, and she _had_ just walked to the bar, taken his keys, and driven him to her place since it was so close. She'd even pressed his suit before she lounged on the sofa to watch reruns of old Doctor Who episodes. At the moment, his suit was hanging from a hook on the back of her bathroom door. It was still warm from the iron.

Actually, this almost felt like when she had taken care of Nana Peggy after the hip replacement six years ago. The doting was the same, how she doted was slightly different. Nana Peggy hadn't worn uniforms or suit-like anything(s) since 1985 when she retired from SHIELD.

"How are you feeling this morning?" she asked, consciously softening her voice to avoid irritating his headache. She didn't look at him, but she hoped her tone portrayed a sense of compassion and concern, because she did genuinely want to know.

She heard him swallow, "Hungover, but it could be worse."

"How could it be worse?"

"I could be home alone," he said quietly around a bite of food.

That was...awkward. She really didn't know what to say to that, so she chose to ignore it completely. "Did you sleep well? I apologize for the mess, I don't usually keep such an untidy household."

That was a lie. She did. She totally did. Her flat was always in a state of disarray.

"It adds to the charm," he said playfully, putting down his silverware. He glanced around her flat again with more alert eyes, taking in the curtain of sheets separating the bed from the sitting area and the small coffee table, the navy blue couch covered in blankets and pillows. Nothing matched or complemented anything, and that was exactly how she liked it. "I always wondered what your place looked like." She could hear him slurping his coffee as she piled dishes from the kitchen table to set in the sink. "It sort of suits you. Definitely not what I expected."

That piqued her interest. "May I ask what you imagined my flat would look like?"

"Just," he paused, watching as she turned and set the dishes in the sink. She gave him a smirk, filling the sink and adding soap. He continued, "You're always so organized working for Pepper, I thought you'd be an excessive neatfreak."

"You must be so shocked," she feigned a gasp, stifling a giggle at his facial expression. "I'm like a mystery to you now. Everything you thought you knew is smashed to bits, because I leave my clothes everywhere."

"And papers and files," he said, glancing back at the living room. "What are those files for?"

"Just a bit of this and that," she replied nonchalantly, making a mental note to swipe the files off the coffee table before Happy got a closer look. "Nothing important, really."

There was a long silence as she turned back to the kitchen table, making sure she didn't miss something.

"You're...really busy in the mornings," Happy commented as she sipped her tea and did the dishes. "Aren't you gonna eat? Sit down? Relax?"

"I'll eat later," Maggie yawned, covering her mouth with her arm. Her faint British accent came across more exaggerated as another yawn followed the first. "I'm not always such a busybody...in the mornings…"

She blushed, as strange a thing as that was for her to do considering there really wasn't anything to blush about. With a nervous sigh, Maggie wiped a soapy hand across her forehead to push a few strands of escaped hair back away from her face, returning to the dishes, "To be honest, I'm a teensy bit nervous."

Happy had a mouthful of pancake, but his astonishment was written all over his face, bulging cheeks and all. "What are you so nervous about?" he asked, talking around the food in his mouth.

"I, uh," she gave a breathy laugh and scrubbed hard at a spot in the mixing bowl. "I'm not accustomed to people in my home, other than me. I've never had a man...here...before." She cringed at how that sounded, "Or...Well, ever. I've never had a man in my flat, ever. Any flat. Or people, in general...You know, this is...I'm not articulating this well, am I?"

He had choked on a bite of banana, eyes bulging as he fought to swallow, "It's me. Why are you so nervous?"

Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment, there was the start of pressure in her brain, and she was growing tired, very tired. Flustered, she continued, "It's just...I'm not entirely sure how to say it."

"Say what?"

She added the mixing bowl into the rinse side of the sink, taking the time to formulate a better explanation. The headache was back, again, with a vengeance, and she clenched her eyes shut and made a quiet noise, "Well, I don't know where the boundaries are when it comes to a person sleeping in my home. Am I doing to too much? Am I not doing enough? I don't know if I'm overcompensating for the fact that I never have people stay the night, or never had people stay the night."

"Maggie, calm down. You're doing fine," chuckled Happy, sliding off the stool and walking around into the small kitchen. He rested his hands on her shoulders and guided her away from the sink, refusing to stop until she was seated on the other side of the counter next to his stool. She suddenly wanted to melt into his touch, it was comforting and made her feel warm all over. It felt very nice. "Sit down and take a moment."

She nodded, feeling too tired to object.

As he moved about her tiny kitchen, in her ridiculously tiny flat, Maggie left her thoughts wander as she watched him make her a plate of food. She decided that she liked the way he chuckled; liked the timbre and the way he shook his head three times as he did. She also decided that she liked this dishevelled look he had about him first thing in the morning. His brown hair was cut short, but there was a curl to it that she found fascinating. It was always brushed back, professional and well kept, but now it was sticking up and out in places. Parts were curled close to his scalp, and there were a few frizzy patches that she couldn't stop admiring. He wore a white t-shirt and blue striped boxer shorts, simple and yet very wrinkled from turning over repeatedly in bed. All in all, Maggie was adamant she preferred this look over his very professional suits and ties he wore for work. She even preferred this early morning look over his off-hours attire; the Yankees jersey and jeans he normally wore for sports bars, or the blue polo shirt and slacks if he was in the mood for dress-casual.

She yawned again, covering her mouth with her hand and her thoughts on Happy faded away. They were replaced by the sight of two blurry pancakes on a plate sitting in front of her. At least, she hoped they were pancakes. Even with her glasses, she couldn't really tell with the double vision, the sudden blurriness that made her eyes hurt from the strain. Maggie stared at it as Happy took his place next to her on the counter, trying to will her vision to focus and the pain in her head to fade away. The pain was just there, no precursor or warning, just there. _It's only because I'm tired_, she told herself._ The headaches are becoming more and more frequent, because I haven't been sleeping_.

"You gonna eat?"

"Hmm?" Maggie blinked at Happy, her eyes watering at the sudden brightness of the fluorescent lights in the kitchen. She offered a weak smile and nodded, "Yes, of course."

"When was the last time you slept?" asked Happy around his last bite of pancake.

He was scrutinizing her with his gaze, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and the sag in her posture; the overall exhaustion she was exuding. All she could do was swallow her small bite of food and shake her head in the negative response, flinching at the wave of pain through her head. Happy knew that she purposely avoided sleep until it was impossible to stay awake. He just didn't know what kept her up at night. It wasn't something she talked about, to anyone. Whenever she met with Coulson, and whenever he brought up questions about her sleep habits, she shut down and refused to talk about it. She didn't want anyone to know. It bothered her that she was keeping it from everyone, even Coulson.

"I got a call from Agent Coulson last night," he prompted when she didn't respond, pausing to gauge her mood before continuing. "He said you missed some pretty important appointments."

She rested her elbows on the counter, removing her glasses and leaning forward as the pain increased. It made her dizzy and nauseated, and she struggled to appear fine. She wanted to believe it was from exhaustion, and not from something else. No, she didn't even want to think about that right now.

Her sessions with Dr. Britton, those were what she should focus on. Bloody SHIELD mandated therapy since before the event of Puente Antiguo. She never really understood why most of the agents that found themselves on her couch refused to talk for months, but now she empathized completely. She didn't want to talk about her bloody shite either. Coulson had been on her about talking in therapy. In Los Angeles, Dr. Britton was a nice enough woman, and incredibly gifted in her field, just like Maggie, but it wasn't enough for Maggie to start talking. That was why Coulson had taken to calling her once a week, and checking up on her when he was in the state. He had once asked Agent Romanov to intercept her as she left work, which the agent had done so well, Maggie almost had an apoplexy finding the Black Widow sitting in the backseat of the car. It was Coulson's way of looking out for Maggie, she knew that. She understood he protected his recruits, the agents he preferred on his team, but it didn't mean she had to like it. She much preferred to deal with this on her own, which meant she didn't want special treatment of any kind. And she didn't appreciate him pulling Happy in on it, either.

Maggie dropped her fork to her plate and pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes, shaking her head. Her voice came out raspy and thick as her head gave another sharp throb, "What did he tell you?"

"I can't remember most of what he said. Just that you missed another appointment, and it was the fourth one in a row," said Happy. "He said it was rescheduled for today at two. So, you gonna tell me why a Shield agent is calling me about you, or do I need to start guessing, Ms. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy?"

"You're angry," was all she said, weak and drenched with tired.

"I'm not angry, Maggie." She winced when Happy's fork clattered to his plate. His tone was more concerned and exasperated than angry, "I just wish you'd told me, instead of me hearin' it from someone else. I'm worried, and I care about you. I want to…I want to _know_ you, but you won't let anyone that close. You act as if everything is fine and dandy, but obviously it's not. There's something goin' on, and I wish you would just _let me in_."

Did she trust Happy? Yes, honestly she did. Should she tell him? Probably, if he cared that much to want to know about her problems. His words seemed genuine, and they tugged at her chest, but should she gather all those files on the coffee table and let him rifle through? That was something she couldn't answer without further consideration. All the information was there; what plagued her, what kept her up at night, what filled her nightmares. It was all there, but she didn't know if she wanted to tell him. She didn't know if she was ready to share that much about herself, especially since she wasn't entirely certain why. Happy didn't know a single thing about her, other than what Coulson had said to him, but he didn't seem to remember very much.

She didn't know how the happy mood turned so dark, just that it had quickly. Her head was swimming with everything; the look of concern in Happy's eyes, the question of how much did he know, the ever increasing pain in her head. And as she slid off the stool with an unsteady release of breath, she stumbled just the few steps to the wall. She flipped the light switch and relished the semi-dark, aware of Happy's attention to her before the sound of him getting up reached her ears. The sound was distorted, and she didn't feel so great now that she was standing. She felt sick.

With a feeble whimper she called out, "Happy?"

"What's wrong?" She could _feel_ the concern in Happy's voice as stood directly behind her.

"I think I just need to lay down." She was vaguely aware of the fact that her eyes were leaking down her cheeks, and she was sniffling, but none of it mattered when Happy was enveloping her in his arms. His arms were comforting and she felt safe, the pain rippling through her head very slowly dissipating as she pressed her cheek against the cotton mesh fiber of his shirt. She sighed, "Will you help me to couch, please?"

Through the haze of exhaustion and migraine related nausea, Maggie was almost certain she felt Happy press a kiss to the top of her head. It was slow and his lips lingered for a few seconds before he helped her walk to the sofa. Even though his lips had grazed her hair, the scalp underneath tingled in a very pleasant way that made her wonder. Of course, it didn't last long, for some reason. The question barely formed before it slipped away, Happy helping her onto the couch, laying a quilt over her lap and going back for her plate. Maggie had already leaned forward to grab the files off the coffee table, pushing them into a semi-neat stack before handing them to Happy as he returned. They traded; him setting down her reheated tea and plate of pancakes, and she handing over the SHIELD confidential files of what happened in New Mexico.

In the minute it took Happy to get her comfortable on the sofa, Maggie had decided she wasn't going to the hospital, and she wasn't going to tell him any of her worries regarding the head pain. Not until she found out what was going on herself. There was no need to worry someone else before she learned from where the headaches and subsequent migraines were stemming. She could handle the secret worry for a bit longer, and then she would decide if she was going to tell anyone. At all. Ever. It all depended on what the results were, what the doctors said, and how long she could keep the news (good or bad) from Director Fury and Coulson. Maggie didn't know how she was going to keep anything from Fury, but she was damn well going to try.

And as for Happy? Well, that was entirely different territory. After being up for almost 72 hours straight, Maggie felt that maybe she should get some sleep before she analyzed any feelings from this morning. For now, as Happy lifted her legs and laid them over his lap, Maggie was content with eating small bites of her pancakes as she watched him flip through the SHIELD files. Happy had even turned on the telly, selecting a recorded episode of the latest _Doctor Who_ for Maggie to watch while he read the reports.

She set her plate aside a few minutes later, too nauseated to continue eating, and got up from the sofa to stretch her legs and use the bathroom. When she returned, Maggie found Happy had drifted off with the files sitting on his lap, head resting back against the sofa with his mouth open. The sight made her happy. There was no rhyme or reason to it, just watching him sleep like an old man in a recliner made a small smile appear on her lips. What she did next defied all logic, as she set an alarm on her phone and curled up next to him. She spread the quilt over both of them, resting her head on his shoulder with a sigh and proceeded to watch _Doctor Who_ until she finally drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

_Saturday, 5 March 2011. Los Angeles, California._

Happy woke first, the sound of Maggie's cellphone alarm being a rooster shrilly crowing. The feel of a warm body curled against him registered when he tried to reach for the phone on the coffee table. Maggie was resting her head on his shoulder, legs tucked up close to her chest and the quilt laid over the both of them took him by surprise. They had never been this close before, never. He had to rub the sleep from his eyes and take in the scene for a moment before he started to believe this wasn't a dream. She was really huddled up next to him, sleeping with her glasses sitting askew on her face and drooling a bit from the side of her mouth. She was snoring lightly, she was hugging his arm to her chest, and her hair was stringy, uncombed and pulled into the messiest, sloppiest bun he'd ever seen. To anyone else, Happy was certain a sleeping Maggie would not be an attractive sight. To Happy, it was some kind of magical moment that he was beginning to think would never happen.

He disentangled his arm from hers, pulling it free and reaching for the phone on the coffee table. His thumb slid across the screen, dismissing the alarm. Leaning back into the couch, Happy watched Maggie sleep for a while longer. The way she pressed against him, bunching up the edge of the quilt to bring up to her chin, and he tried to burn everything about this moment to his memory. He didn't want to forget how it felt, this quirky little woman who made his life brighter just by smiling at him, snuggled against him and sleeping soundly. He couldn't count the number of times he'd seen the look of exhaustion in her, knowing she had trouble sleeping, and feeling frustrated over the fact that she wouldn't tell him why.

That was the one thing he would change if he had the power to do so; make her less closed off about personal details. It was like she didn't want to bother him with whatever was on her mind. He never knew she had a grandmother, or a cousin. He didn't know she was working for SHIELD as a shadow. The reports that he'd read before nodding off had detailed an alien weapon of some sort labeled "the Destroyer" that basically burned a town to the ground. The reports said Maggie had been suffered a breakdown, had been signed in somewhere for a couple weeks and then took a month long vacation in England. When she came back she was immediately transferred to Los Angeles as a shadow to Pepper Potts. There were questions unanswered that only Maggie could explain, and he wasn't sure how to poke her without being pushed out. For now, he decided, he would ask and see what she was comfortable with answering. If she was cancelling or no-showing to mandated appointments, there had to be a reason for it. And Happy didn't want to go back to a life without Maggie in it, even in a friend capacity.

Yes, he was aware of how unmasculine this all sounded.

Checking the time, Happy figured he should wake Maggie, since this mystery appointment was an hour and a half away. They both still needed to shower, and Happy wasn't sure if Maggie wanted him to actually drive her to an appointment SHIELD was saying she _had_ to attend. If she wanted him to drive her, then he would drive her, but he didn't want to overstep or intrude. Sometimes he got the feeling Maggie was like a frightened doe, and if a person made the wrong move she would get spooked. Most of the time she was this bright and bubbly person; all smiles and compliments, warm and friendly to everyone she met. That was part of the charm for Happy, how kind she was to complete strangers and how sweet she was to their co-workers. Maggie was the type of person who cooked casseroles and desserts for people's birthdays, and always found the time to walk around the offices with a card for everyone to sign. She was the type of person who managed difficult clients with ease and always had them relaxed, smiling and easily persuaded to negotiations before they made it into a meeting with Pepper. Maggie was just this altruistic being that never asked anything in return, and Happy was entranced by that.

Not that he didn't know she wasn't perfect. Everyone had flaws, and he had caught glimpses of Maggie's flaws here and there over the last six months. Everyone had layers, and he was aware there were many hidden layers to Maggie Carter. He just hadn't thought those layers would be quite so...monumental. Yes, the fact that she was a SHIELD agent made him question his feelings for her, just a bit, but in the end he was willing to put it aside until he had answers. He had been waiting six months already, he could be patient a little while longer. For now, Happy was more concerned about what kind of appointments she had been missing.

"Maggie," said Happy, gently nudging her until she started to stir. "Your alarm went off. We gotta get going."

Her brows scrunched together as she groaned, shifting against him to get more comfortable, "A few more minutes."

"Maggie, you've gotta shower."

"Are you saying I smell?" Maggie mumbled, burrowing closer to him and adjusting the quilt over herself. She refused to open her eyes and her fingers had found his arm again, palm cupping the line of soft muscles in his bicep. He could see the corner of her mouth twitch into a smirk, feel her thumb stroke over the curve of his bicep, and hear a soft sigh escape her lips in a quiet breath, "I don't think I smell that badly…"

God, he loved that accent. It sent a shiver down his spine, even as he chuckled and gave her another nudge, while his free hand snaked under the quilt to cover her fingers caressing his arm. Part of him never wanted this moment to end, but the other half of him knew that Maggie couldn't miss this appointment. He had a sneaking suspicion that if she missed a fifth appointment in a row, Agent Coulson would appear out of thin air and drag her in, kicking and screaming. As appealing as it sounded, Happy would rather avoid that type of situation at all costs. He could deal with Maggie being grumpy over him making her go, but he didn't think he'd enjoy a visit from Agent Coulson, or explaining why Maggie never showed up today.

"No, you don't smell bad," chuckled Happy, nudging her some more until she started becoming a bit more motivated. "I don't want to answer to Agent Coulson about why you didn't show up today, though. So, get up, shower and get dressed."

"I don't want to go," groaned Maggie, getting up from the sofa in a huff. God, if she wasn't adorable when she was like this, all petulant and stubborn. She even stamped a foot on the floor as she shuffled towards the curtain separating the living room area from the bedroom.

"According to Agent Coulson," said Happy, standing up and following her to make sure she grabbed clothes and headed to the shower, "it's non-negotiable. There was something about sending an agent out to bring you in if you don't show up today."

"Bollocks," grumbled Maggie, pulling clothes out of her dresser. "And I don't appreciate Coulson dragging you into the middle of this. He acts like my bloody father," she stamped her foot again when she turned around and saw Happy pointing at the bathroom. "I hate you...You're supposed to be on my side."

"I'll buy you ice cream after," offered Happy, watching the petulant pout disappear from her face almost immediately.

Then she glared and stamped her foot one last time, "Fine...And you have to accompany me to Mr. Stark's tonight. At the very least, you can trick him into letting me past the gate."

And with that, Maggie was in the bathroom, setting her things on the counter and shutting the door. While he waited, Happy settled in on the couch and started reading through the SHIELD reports again. He thumbed the papers, skimming through what he remembered and paying attention to what he had not noticed during his first read. There were notes on Maggie's SHIELD employment, her job description, and how long she had been working for the division. There was a detailed report by Maggie chronicling the events of Puente Antiguo, New Mexico, complete with a sketch of "the Destroyer." All other reports confirmed the height, build and level of destruction the sentient weapon had distributed on the town. There were also notations on the involvement of mythical Norse gods. That threw Happy for a loop. A Norse god defeating a giant walking metal weapon that breathed fire out of its face. ITS FACE. The reports read like bad science fiction, but they were stamped confidential, in red ink. This was a real event from a real place that had apparently affected Maggie deeply. What happened in New Mexico obviously did not stay in New Mexico for her.

"There is a fresh towel next to the sink," said Maggie from behind him. "And I apologize, but I don't have any razors for men. You can use a fresh one of mine and some shaving gel, if you're not opposed to smelling like a flower. I also left out deodorant for you."

Setting down the files, Happy looked back to see Maggie nervously nibbling on her lower lip. She really hadn't done this before, had guests over, and it was very apparent in the way she was trying to make him feel so at home. It was so damn adorable and charming, as she fidgeted while waiting for his response. He was quiet for a moment, taking in her expression and appearance as if he'd never see her again, which only made her fidget more. Her glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose and she kept pushing them higher out of habit. She wasn't wearing any makeup, though it wasn't as if she wore much during the week for work, but the sight of absolutely no makeup was startling in a good way. She was wearing a purple shirt and jeans that hugged the curve of her thighs, with sandals that showed she had recently done a mani-pedi day with Pepper again. Her hair was damp, brushed with a deep part to the side. It was the first time he had seen Maggie with her hair down. She always kept it in a ponytail or bun. He found he quite liked the way she looked with her hair down. She looked just as beautiful to him with her hair up, but he found he preferred her hair loose with one side tucked behind an ear.

"I'm sorry," she said, pushing her glasses up again. "I shouldn't assume...I just thought you might like to shower before...I can drive myself, you don't have to-"

Happy furrowed his brows in confusion, shaking his head as he stood, "No, Maggie, it's fine. I was just…" He was feeling a bit flustered and embarrassed, having not realized how long he'd been staring at her. "I've never seen your hair down before, that's all. It looks really nice. Uhm..." He paused and sighed, pointing towards the bathroom, "I'll be quick. Thanks for the razor and stuff, I appreciate it."

Her eyes grew wide and she smiled a little, which made him more willing to smell like a woman just to see her more at ease. "Oh, okay. Well, let me show you where everything is and I'll let you...get to it."

The flush that took her over was either his imagination running wild, or actually real. Was it the thought of him soon to be nude and showering in her apartment that made her cheeks burn so red? Happy couldn't tell, but he liked thinking it was. That aside, he followed and listened as she showed him where the razors and shaving gel were kept, before she turned on the shower for him and hurried out. He showered and shaved quickly, emerging from the steamy bathroom smelling like Maggie's chamomile and honey shampoo. He wore his suit from the day before and made sure he had his keys, phone and wallet before Maggie and he left the apartment with only forty minutes until her appointment.

They took Maggie's car, a sleek black sedan that oozed SHIELD issue, and headed towards the business section of Los Angeles. Happy drove in silence, unable to gather up the nerve to ask one of many questions on his mind. Maggie rode in the passenger seat, quiet and distracted while she chewed on the tip of her thumb and stared out the window. There were so many things he wanted to know, but he didn't want to push her if she wasn't ready. What kind of appointment was he driving her to? Why had she taken an assignment on the other side of the country? What was she running from? Yet he always came back to the question at the forefront of his mind.

Happy parked where Maggie told him to, and they sat and watched the people on the sidewalks hurrying in and out of a coffee shop. Happy glanced over frequently, checking the time and watching Maggie for any sign of movement. She just sat there, staring out the windshield, eyes moving from person to person. He tried to not be so obvious, with his aviators on and trying to appear as though he were staring across the street, but he was really staring at Maggie from the corner of his eye. Her leg started jiggling, and she began nibbling on her thumb with renewed vigor. She looked conflicted, like she was fighting with herself about something. He wondered if she was going to get out of the car soon, and if he needed to offer to go in with her for moral support. He didn't know what this appointment was for, but he knew it must be important if Coulson had reached out to someone close to Maggie, outside of SHIELD. He figured it was best to let her sit and decide on whatever she was conflicted about, until it was closer to her appointment time.

In the end, Maggie broke the silence with ten minutes before she had to enter the SHIELD building…

The drive was awkward and tense, but Maggie didn't know what to say to break the silence, so she just watched the cars on the freeway.

Really, what was she supposed to say? Did she just open up and tell Happy her secret pain? This wasn't exactly her area of expertise. She had always been the one listening to people, doling out advice because that was what she was trained to do. It was all textbook when it came to psychology and therapy, even psychoanalyzing whomever SHIELD had in their interrogation rooms. Listen, help the patient interpret, and see them in a week, or month. She wasn't good at sharing her personal history, mainly because it was too hard for her to even think about. She didn't like reliving her childhood before Great Aunt Peggy took her in. She didn't know how to talk about it. It was easier to just forget any of it had ever happened and look forward. It was easier to pretend everything was fine and smile like she had no deep, depressing issues. That was how it had always been, and that was how Maggie preferred it to stay.

"It's therapy," she said quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap. "Coulson asked you to drive me to mandated therapy, because I suffered a mental break after New Mexico."

"Well, that's good," he offered. "You're gettin' the help you need after what you saw. I don't get how working for Stark Industries isn't 'working in the field,' though."

Maggie shook her head with a sigh, "I requested to shadow Pepper, because it was the least amount of stress. The job keeps me so busy that I don't think about anything but what needs to be done next. Therapy is about talking through one's issues, and I just don't know if I'm ready to talk about any of it yet. I don't talk to anyone about anything, actually."

"Maybe that's your problem," said Happy. "Maybe you should start workin' on the talking part, before you handle whatever it is you think you have to deal with on your own."

"I know I'm not alone," said Maggie, reaching for his hand. She sighed when she felt his palm cover her fingers, the warmth of his hand holding hers a welcome experience. "You know, I've never met someone who cared enough to want to know about me. If it helps...You're the closest I've let anyone in."

That may be a bit of a fib, but Happy didn't need to know how close Coulson and she were.

He squeezed her hand, "I read the files. I know you were a psychologist and interrogator for Shield. I understand you saw somethin' that no one could explain, and that afterwards somethin' happened. You're a believer in therapy, maybe you should start talkin'. You don't have to dive into the hard stuff. It's like boxing, you know? You don't take on the champs first, you work your way up to it."

They were quiet for a moment, and Maggie was enjoying the comforting feel of Happy's thumb stroking over her thin knuckles. When she felt less anxious about the idea of talking in therapy, she nodded and looked over at him with a warm, sad smile, "Thank you, Happy."

"No problem."

Chewing on her lower lip, Maggie sniffed and looked Happy, nervous all over again, "Will you go in with me?"

Even though she couldn't see his eyes behind the dark, reflective lenses of his shades, she could tell he was a little shocked, but also hopeful for something she couldn't identify. Maybe the possibility of a future? That she was giving an inch and letting him in, even if it was the most minute little step? She knew she was developing feelings for Happy - or had been and she never realized - but she never thought about Happy having feelings for her. Maggie was so adamant that he was still in love with Pepper, that the thought of him carrying a torch for her never crossed her mind. She was incredibly gifted with pinpointing a person's biggest insecurities, calling people on their bullshit, even saw connections that a person couldn't see for themselves, but when it came to Happy…

Well, when it came to Happy, she was basically driving blind.

The fact that she might be developing feelings for Happy, beyond platonic friendship, could be the reason why Maggie was so wrong about so many things when it came to him. Happy having feelings for her just didn't make sense when she looked back at all the instances that he found excuses to be around Pepper. Then again, those instances happened when Maggie was going to be with Pepper, yet not when Pepper would be alone. There could be the possibility that Pepper had not been the motivating factor for Happy to offer to drive Pepper to the airport and meetings across town. Maggie could have been the center of Happy's attention all along and she never noticed. The fact that Maggie had slowly started nudging Happy to see that Pepper didn't reciprocate his feelings could, possibly, be understood now as jealousy. It all started to make a little sense, but then she shook the thoughts from her head.

No, it was preposterous. Happy couldn't have feelings for Maggie. Right?

"It's ten til," said Happy suddenly, opening his door. "We gotta go, Maggie."

Blinking, she looked at the time on the stereo clock and nodded.

As they got out of the car, Maggie felt that ice cold fear sink down into her bones. When Happy walked around the car to stand beside her, she felt that natural urge to flee. That was the main reason she had missed the four appointments with Dr. Britton. It had taken Coulson eight months to get Maggie to agree to therapy, and the first appointment she had walked right past the building towards a small cafe down the street. She'd sat there for hours, drinking tea after tea and eating coffee cake muffins because they were out of the Cream Cheese Crumble and she was allergic to berries. She'd been the lonely woman in the corner, weeping as she took huge bites of muffin, which had caused quite a few people to stop and stare. It had not only been embarrassing, but also incredibly depressing. And the next week, when Coulson had called her to tell her it had been rescheduled, she'd done the same thing; walking towards the building and then veering off to a different eatery at the last minute. The third appointment Coulson had sent Agent Romanov, since she was in town, to take her in. The minute Maggie sat down outside Dr. Britton's office, Romanov left; completely satisfied Maggie would go in and talk. Instead, Maggie had taken the stairs when the elevator doors closed. And the fourth appointment yesterday? Maggie had stayed home, ignoring Coulson's phone calls while eating a pint of ice cream and clicking through channels repeatedly until Happy called.

Yes, she was aware that she was a HUGE chicken...and a bit of a hypocrite.

Happy placed a hand at the small of her back, guiding her across the street. He slid his arm around when she started digging in her feet in an attempt to slow them down enough to avoid the inevitable. The closer the got to the nondescript building that was SHIELD's Los Angeles headquarters, the heavier the weight in her stomach became. She was scared, and she felt as though she was allowed to be afraid. She was allowed to have reservations about meeting with Dr. Britton in an office, instead of in a conference room discussing a patient's transfer from one side of the country to the other. Yes, she had been a bit gloomy prior to New Mexico, and yes, she became a bit unhinged after New Mexico, but that didn't mean she wasn't equipped to deal with it on her own. She wasn't a "danger to others" or "unfit to practice." She was doing fine, in her opinion. She was slowly dealing with the issues she'd developed in her own ways, even if they may be evaluated by other professionals as, possibly, unhealthy. And she definitely was not going down the same path as Agent Melinda May.

As she stood there on the sidewalk in front of the building, Maggie felt the fear and uncertainty glue her to that spot. She didn't hear whatever Happy was saying, or asking. She just stood there and looked at the doors, wondering why she was even her in the first place. To be honest, Maggie didn't know why Coulson thought it was his responsibility to make sure she received treatment. It wasn't his decision to make, in the long run. The decision was entirely up to Maggie, and she didn't feel ready for this. She felt it was unnecessary. What was she supposed to bloody talk about? She didn't know Dr. Britton well enough to delve into the struggles of her early childhood. She didn't want to discuss how her Nana Peggy had a very firm belief in "don't talk about it" policy growing up. Maggie wasn't ready to relive New Mexico, or detail the nightmares from that day keeping her up at night. She wasn't ready to dig through her life to a stranger, and that was the bottom line.

"I can't...I can't do it," said Maggie suddenly, turning and hurrying back to the car…


End file.
